


Order Up

by mishallaneously



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Sexual innuendos, many hot dog puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4394762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishallaneously/pseuds/mishallaneously





	Order Up

Cas gets a summer job working at Hot Dog on a Stick and he has to wear that [god awful uniform](http://static.thefrisky.com/uploads/2010/10/08/hot_dog_on_a_stick_10-7_main-183x289.jpg) and he keeps burning himself with hot grease when he uses the frier and somehow,  _somehow_ , lemonade always winds up in his hair and makes it stick together in high fructose corn syrupy clumps. By the second day he completely swears off corn dogs for the rest of his life after a family of four orders two _each_  while his coworker is on break and he hasn’t even mastered the process of making them at that point and ends up nearly destroying eight whole corn dogs before he gets one right. 

He doesn’t think the day can get worse but then, right after the clearly disgruntled family saunters away with their corn dogs in hand, a man orders some of those cheese on sticks. Now Cas is a fast learner, but the cheese on a stick is something that a) he doesn’t understand at all because why would you want deep fried cheese?? and b) he simply can’t master it. The cheese always melts when Cas tries. But try he does and his ugly striped uniform ends up smeared in pepperjack cheese. By the time he finally finishes the order, he’s barely holding it together.

“How are your buns?” 

Castiel peers over the huge lemonade container he’s filling. A customer, great. How much longer could Meg’s break be? He wipes a hand across his brow and winces when he realizes he’s going to have another batch of sticky lemonade clumps in his hair. He sighs. 

“Pardon?” Cas ask, tacking on a plastic smile. 

“Your buns, how would you rank them?” The customer grins a toothy smile. Cas licks his lips unconsciously. The man before him, apparently an employee at Mrs. Field’s Cookies according to the bright red apron, is heart-stoppingly attractive. 

“Um. They’re fine, I guess.” Cas tears his eyes from the customer’s. 

“Way to sell it there,” his green eyes narrow as he reads Castiel’s nametag, “Cas.” 

“Thank you, it’s my mission to do a perfectly adequate job upholding the Hot Dog on a Stick name.” 

The customer snorts. “Noble.” 

Cas bows his head solemnly. “I try.” 

For the first time since he started working at this hell hole, Cas’ heart rate is racing for a good reason. He can’t believe himself right now, is he, Castiel Novak, actually flirting? Successfully? Probably not, if he knows himself, but it’s worth a try.

“I’m Dean, by the way.” The customer-  _Dean_ \- motions to the name tag tacked onto his apron. 

“I’d shake your hand but then I’d probably have to wash mine before handling your hot dog.” Cas states. “It’s nice to meet you, regardless.” 

Dean stifles a laugh with his hand. Cas squints in confusion. He grimaces, he probably still has melted cheese in his hair. 

“What?” Cas asks. 

“Nothing, man, nothing. Just-” Dean laughs again. “Your job is full of sexual innuendos.” Oh. That makes sense, Cas reasons. He doesn’t know what to say in response so he shrugs a shoulder and smiles in what he hopes is a “what can you do” kinda way.

“Anyway,” Cas clears his throat, attempting to regain some semblance of professionalism, not there probably was any to begin with, he thinks dryly. “You were wondering about our buns?” 

Dean nearly chokes on his spit he laughs so abruptly, and hard, at that. His eyes are tearing up and Cas doesn’t know if it’s because of the whole choking thing or something was just  _that_  funny. He waits patiently as Dean dabs at the tears in his eyes. 

“It’s okay, Cas, I can see from here. Your buns are fine.” He cranes his neck and stares at Cas over the counter, letting out a low whistle of approval.

Cas’ cheeks feel hot and he’s suddenly aware of just how short, and how revealing, these navy blue uniform pants are. 

“So you-” Cas begins, but his voice is all high pitched and shy. He tries again. “You didn’t want to know about the hot dog in a bun?” 

Dean meets his eyes then, the laughter lines smoothing out as he listens to Cas seriously. There’s still a hint of a smirk on his face, though. “Oh, that’s an option?”

Cas groans audibly. Dean grins again. “I’m gonna be honest with you here, Cas. I hate corn dogs. I mean, who thought that was a good idea?” 

“Try making them,” Cas wrinkles his nose in disgust. Dean shakes his head.

“But yeah, I just came over here because no one has any business looking  _that_ hot in literally the ugliest uniform known to man.” Dean gestures to Cas who looks down at himself, baffled. 

He honestly can’t see what Dean is saying. The outfit is garish with it’s white, red, yellow, and blue stripes. He’s wearing navy shorts that come up to his thigh. He has a ridiculous and equally as ugly hat on his head. Not to mention he looks like he lost a fight with every appliance behind this counter Dean was staring at him over. There must not be much to look at over near Mrs. Field’s, he reasons. 

“And naturally you had to come over here and ogle me?” Cas can’t help the little smile that sneaks through the cracks of his poker face. 

“I’m only human, man.” Dean’s answering smile is big and wide and the most genuine thing Cas thinks he’s ever seen. “I will take you up on that regular hot dog though. My lunch break’s almost gone and _someone_ distracted me from actually eating.” 

“My apologies, Dean.” He whirls around to the little stove of hot dogs cooking under a heat lamp. “One wiener for Dean nestled in the world’s finest buns, coming right up.” 

He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks he hears Dean mutter “touché.” 

After he’s made the hot dog and Meg finally traipses back into work with the smell of cigarettes clinging to her, he rings Dean up. 

“There’s a tip for the best buns in the business,” Dean says around a mouthful of hot dog as he crams a one dollar bill in the tip jar. “And here’s a little something for you.” He hands Cas a slip of paper. His phone number. Cas can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of his lips.“If you’re ever in the mood for something sweet, come pay a visit to Mrs. Fields, okay?”

The wink he gives Cas before he leaves stays with Cas all day. 


End file.
